The café opened at dawn, as usual, but something felt wrong from the moment Jace stepped inside. The air clung to him like humidity, thick and restless, and the lamps along the walls flickered in uneven intervals, like a heartbeat skipping. Ren noticed it too—he kept glancing at the ceiling with a scrunched brow, as if listening for something only he could hear.
"You feel that?" Ren murmured, wiping down the espresso machine. "The café's anxious."
Jace let out a humorless laugh. "Places can't be anxious."
Ren raised a single eyebrow. "You sure about that?"
Jace wasn't. Not anymore. Not after everything he'd seen these past weeks—the threads, the visions, the Eclipse Blend's consequences spiraling across the city. He knew better than to dismiss strange feelings now.
The bell above the door chimed softly, but the sound came out warped, stretched. A girl stepped inside, clutching a half-burned candle. Her eyes were red-rimmed and exhausted, like she hadn't slept in days.
"I—I need something," she whispered. "I don't know what. I just… can't see straight. My future keeps changing every time I blink."
Ren froze. Jace's heart sank.
Another eclipse-touched customer.
He guided her to a seat, careful, gentle, making sure not to touch her too directly. Threads flickered around her like static—glitchy, unstable. The café hummed, low and distressed.
"What did you drink before?" Jace asked, sitting across from her.
"Something someone gave me," she said. "A drink that wasn't on any menu. They said it would help me 'choose a path.' Now I can't stop seeing every path at once."
Jace didn't breathe for a moment.
Another Eclipse Blend, but not from the café. Someone had copied it. Spread it. Misused it.
The flickering lights made sense now—the café was reacting, angry or frightened, Jace couldn't tell.
Ren leaned close and whispered, "This is getting out of control."
Jace nodded. He knew. And the café knew too. He could feel it watching him, its presence tightening, expectation coiling around him.
The Loom hadn't finished with him.
He wasn't done.
He didn't want to understand what that meant.
And yet, deep in his chest, he already did.